


Hazy Shades of Winter (Advent Calendar 2019)

by Sapphires_and_Gold



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Advent Calendar 2019, Braime - Freeform, F/M, Ficlets only, Probably some aus, definitely a whole bunch of things that no one asked for, hopefully
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21643696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphires_and_Gold/pseuds/Sapphires_and_Gold
Summary: Welcome to my 2019 Advent Calendar ficlets! The title of this collection is obviously taken from Simon & Garfunkel's song "A Hazy Shade of Winter." I don't really need another project right now with three WIPs and no sleep but you know, I'm gonna do it anyway! I'm going to try to keep each of these to lil baby ficlets (of no more than 500 words each), and spend as little time on them as possible as a rule. If there's something you're interested in seeing, drop a line in my inboxon Tumblr!You can find the Advent Calendar prompts listhere.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 27
Kudos: 27





	1. Mistletoe

“It’s romantic, Brienne.”

“It’s a parasite, Jaime.”

They were standing in the middle of the home improvement store's garden center, surrounded by perennials that had no place in a winter garden. The garish orange cart was already filled with more door wreaths than they had doors, and now Jaime was working her last nerve with talk of mistletoe. 

He shook his head at her and plopped the rubber-banded greenery back onto the pallet. “Ya know, there are plenty of parasites that are also quite lovely. Orchids are parasites, did you know that?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s also poisonous, Jaime.”

He stopped and looked back at her. “Were you planning on sprinkling it into my omelette or something? I wasn’t going to eat it. I was going to hang it, and then I was going to kiss you under it.” He kept walking. 

She followed him, muttering. 

“What was that? He’d stopped in front of the tree displays, where the majority of the store’s crowd was. 

“I said… since when do you need a plant in order to kiss me?”

He grinned and stood up on the balls of his feet to peck her on the lips. “I don’t, but if we hang enough of it, then when everyone is at the house for Christmas Eve, you won’t have to apologize to our guests when I’m pawing at you all over the place like usual; you can just deflect my insatiability toward a toxic little parasite. The alternative is allowing people - our friends and family - to believe that I simply desire my wife… what WILL people think?!”

She glared at him, but a smile crept across her lips. “Fine, get your parasite.”

He smirked up at her. “I knew you’d say yes.” He climbed to his toes again, kissed her cheek, and then whispered, “That’s why I already put a tray of it in the bottom of the cart,” and then he sank down to his heels and spun to push the cart away like a child. 

She huffed affectionately and followed him into the crowd. It was going to be a long December. 


	2. Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally dreamt this and take neither credit nor censure for it!

They rode east, away from Pennytree, headed along the river toward Sansa, or so he thought. They had to stay at an inn along the way, and it was there that Brienne told him the truth - explained her deceit and gave him a chance to leave. He stared into the fire, then over at the mottled constellations of her skin, up past her wounds, and finally up into the brilliant blue pools of her eyes. “I suppose that ugly purple burn across your throat is their doing?” 

“They wanted to hang me.” 

His eyes never left hers. “I’ll go with you, my lady, and avenge your looks.” 

“I don’t appreciate japes--” 

“--you know it’s not, Brienne.” 

He leaned over and kissed her unmarked cheek, then her lips, then held her to him as they slept. 

When they woke, they kissed again, and rode on. 

When they reached the camp, there was a man blocking their path. Jaime recognized him immediately. 

“Jon Snow what are you doing here? Weren’t you at the wall?”

“I was... and then I was here. Not sure how I got here. But I just did. What’s going on?”

Jaime looked to Brienne who nodded. “Well, I’ve not seen her myself, but I understand we are about to see a Lady Stoneheart who, in life, was Lady Stark.”

“Oh. I think… I was angry at you for killing her…?”

“I was far away, Snow. It wasn’t me.” 

“Oh… Well that’s... I expect she’ll dislike me as much in death as she did in life.”

“Probably less compared to me. She thinks I killed her children.”

“Did you?”

Jaime looked at him like he was an idiot. “No... I pushed a little one out a window but he survived!”

He caught Brienne’s derisive look. “...and I’m very sorry about it and I’ll never do it again.”

Jon looked back and forth between them, whispering, “I’d threaten you or something right now but I think she’s got it covered.”

“Uhhuh… So... great! She’s probably not expecting you! We can team up.”

Brienne piped up, “Having another set of hands couldn’t hurt.”

Jaime put his only hand to his heart. “I’ll not take offense to that… but yes, we go in, pretend to be Brienne’s prisoners, then Stoneheart will be so distracted by having two men she hates there, she won’t know which one to kill first.”

Brienne paused, “...one problem?”

“Yes?”

“She wants me to kill you, remember? She can have someone else kill him.”

“Sure but you’re not gonna kill me so it doesn’t matter right?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you say that like a question?”

“Well it’s just that Pod… Jaime’s he’s so--”

Jon waved his hands, “Tell you what, I’ll go first, you… do whatever this is and then come save me!” He walked off.

Jaime looked at Brienne. “So… should we just…” 

“...go rescue Pod and Hyle while she’s busy killing Jon Snow?”

“Mindreader!” 

They high-fived and snuck off to the prisoner enclosure.


	3. Nutcracker

Jaime arrived during the last few minutes of the class. He headed to the viewing room and peeked over the railing to where a handful of mostly-divorced moms were watching their kids through the window; all of them would quickly turn their attention to him as a very eligible though uninterested bachelor unless he made a beeline for the last row while they were distracted, which he did. 

He spied a stranger sitting in the far corner. She was in leggings and a shirt dress with cerulean Keds propped on the railing in front of her, where she read, apparently trying to be as inconspicuous as he was. Jaime felt like he had to know her or at least should know her given that she was a newcomer among vultures. Dance moms were vicious and he always felt for the newbies. 

“Hi.”

She looked over her book with eyes as blue as her shoes. “Hi?”

“I thought I knew all the parents at the studio. I’m Jaime,” he held out his hand and she reached out hers which was nearly of a size with his. “Brienne.”

“Nice to meet you. Which one’s yours?”

She looked down into the practice room and nodded toward a diminutive brunette with small feet. 

He turned back, confused. “That’s Arya Stark.”

“I’m the babysitter.”

“Ohhh. He scooted closer, leaning against the wall. “Not like Catelyn to miss this.”

Brienne nodded, “Her son’s PT schedule got shifted, so we’re trading weeks. I’m here this week, next week I’ll take him, etc.”

“So you’ll be here when they begin rehearsals?.”

“Yes! Arya’s very excited,” she lowered her voice, “she wants to play the villain.”

Jaime leaned in conspiratorially, “She’s a natural water dancer. She’ll be perfect.”

Brienne grinned just as Arya got to the top of the stairs. “Brienne!” 

She waved her over, “How did it go?”

Arya approached cautiously, “Oh hi Mr. Lannister.”

“Hi Arya. Oh there’s my nephew, be right back.”

Once he’d stepped away, Arya hung on Brienne’s arm. “I got it! I’m the mouse king!”

“That’s wonderful!”

Jaime returned, hand-in-hand with a blonde boy, smaller and shorter than Arya. “Well?”

“Mouse king!”

“That’s terrifi. What about you, Tommen? Brienne, this is my nephew, Tommen. He’s quite shy.” Tommen studied the ground. 

“Tommen’s the nutcracker prince!”

Jaime’s jaw dropped, then he shook Tommen’s arm, beaming, ”Tommen! The prince! That’s the hero!” 

The little boy smiled shyly and looked over at Arya. “Do we fight?”

“Yep!”

“Well that’s great!” returned Jaime. “Once you guys have the choreography down maybe we can meet before rehearsal a couple of times to go over the fights, how does that sound, Tommen?”

Tommen nodded, as did Arya and Brienne.

“Great! Hey I’ve gotta get him home but Arya - congratulations, and Brienne - see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

He flashed her a dazzling smile that caught her off-guard. “Promise?”

She couldn’t help but smile back, and he was struck in the heart by it. He’d be sure to get there earlier tomorrow. 


	4. Cranberry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got wayyy behind but I've been thinking about this one for 12 days. It's time lol

Jaime closed the door with his foot, a heavy tote bag in his hand. He looked up and spied his wife looking too adorable: flour everywhere, hair sticking up and, best of all, she looked glad to see him. 

“Perfect, I was worried we wouldn’t have time to refrigerate the cranberry sauce.”

“Ouch. Thought you missed me.”

She rolled her eyes and held out her hand for the bag. 

“Now I wasn’t sure--”

“--Oh no, you said you had it!” She snatched it up and moved to the kitchen island, rooting through the bag.

“I did! But I wasn’t sure if you wanted fresh or canned--”

“--Always canned, Jaime,” she said quite seriously, “Who has time? I don’t have time! I have to cook everything else!”

“I can always help.”

She waved him off with the hand that wasn’t in the bag, “Go set the table, I’ll… oh you  _ did  _ get canned.”

“Yeah, I...” he trailed off, seeing Brienne pulling a bag out with a look of distaste.

“...why?”

Jaime shrugged. “Like I said, you could--.”

“--you’ll have to return them I can’t do any--”

“--the store’s closed now, I barely--”

“--then take them somewhere, just keep them out of my way.”

She threw the bag of cranberries at him, tossed the can in the refrigerator, and returned to the stove to finish up the stuffing, wiping sweat from her forehead with the edge of her sleeve. 

She was stressed. It was the first time they were hosting Thanksgiving for their friends and, instead of setting a menu, she’d eagerly agreed to make everyone’s favorites. Pie was cooling on the sideboard, casserole was awaiting a turn in the oven, potatoes occupied the slow-cooker, and rolls rose by the window. Jaime could only guess what was on the stove, but it smelled delicious. 

He went to the dining room, bag of rejected berries in hand and pondered the table. He retrieved the proper settings from the China cabinet and then he snuck back to the kitchen to steal two sprigs of rosemary before clearing a space at the table to work. 

Half an hour later, Brienne called from the hallway, “I’m sorry I was upset.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie, you’re doing a lot.”

She appeared in the doorway, her mouth gaping. “You’re used the good glassware.”

He shrugged, “But they’re pretty?”

She couldn’t help but smile. 

He had taken four pieces of their crystal stemware set from the cabinet, filled them with water, trimmed a couple of candles, and then floated them in the glasses with blades of rosemary sunk at the bottom and the spurned cranberries floating on top. She’d been despairing at their lack of decorations last night and these...they were perfect.

“They are pretty. Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”

“And then you can use the rest for more sauce,” he teased

She rolled her eyes, exasperated, “No, Jaime,” and left the room again to the sound of his laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by:   
> 


	5. Fire

The others were asleep. Steelshanks snored loudly indicating his spot in the dark. Qyburn didn’t snore, but tended to mutter in his sleep. Jaime didn’t care to think of what might give that man such dreams. He didn’t know much about him, but it was enough. Jaime made his way back from the edge of the clearing where he’d relieved himself, careful never to stray far. He knew that if he disappeared into the night, the wench would come after him. 

She didn’t sleep much. Heading south, he had often fallen asleep feeling her eyes on the back of his head, and then woken up, rolled on his other side, her eyes watching his eyelids flutter. It had been disconcerting once - before they’d been captured, before his hand, before the bear. Now he welcomed it. That sensation meant safety. It meant he was protected. It meant she was alive. 

He stepped over one man, then another, the glow of the dying fire lending little aid. Finally he reached the spot he had vacated but, as he tucked himself into the dirt, he now felt terribly alone. She wasn’t watching him. He turned to peer at her. She was still wearing that tight pink monstrosity Bolton’s men had found for her. Even in sleep the fabric at the shoulders seemed to dig into her, leaving red lines etched into her patterned skin. Her mouth was slack in slumber, but her brow was creased, and one of her hands gripped he skirts tight around her legs, as if she were still fighting off Hoat and his men. A shiver ran through her, which he felt mirrored in his own body. 

The ground beneath them was not terribly cold, but the air carried a chill. And the wench had no cloak. 

He watched her shiver again, the tremor running all the way from her shoulders to her knees, and he sighed. Pushing himself up onto his knees, he crawled around the side of the fire. Reaching her legs, he examined the space behind her back, between her and the hedge, and found it would likely be just enough space to accommodate him. A tight fit, but at least he wouldn’t need to wake her.

He untied his cloak and draped it over her. Then he eased himself to lying down with his hand, and wriggled his stump under the cloak to pull part of it back over himself. He felt the heat of his exertions emanate from his chest, but with the cloak covering both of them, what heat was not then absorbed by her back bounced back to him.

_When she wakes_ , he thought, _she’ll be displeased to not have sight of me. Hopefully she won’t kick my shins with her big feet when she tries to get up. But at least she will be alive and not worn down from shivering. At least we will both be alive._


	6. Sleigh Bells

Jaime had promised to leave her alone so she could finish her work before the long holiday week. He told her not to worry - he and the kids would put up the tree and maybe watch a quieter holiday movie. She’d been skeptical, but he’d ushered her out of the kitchen with a mug of cocoa in hand and promised to keep himself and the kids and the dog out from under her feet for a few peaceful hours. 

About an hour in, Brienne thought she could hear the tinkle of bells. She attributed it to some Christmas album being played, but after twenty minutes she realized that they weren’t jingling on any kind of beat. She figured it was just the kids shuffling the noisier ornaments around, and left it at that. 

Ninety minutes later, she was sure the jangling had gotten closer, moving past the door, and then away again. Hopefully Jaime wasn’t stupid enough to let the kids run around with glass ornaments while he tried to put up lights by himself… who was she kidding? That was exactly whom she’d married. She shook her head and moved another email out of her inbox. 

Forty-five minutes later she shut her computer down, and realized that the sound of the bells had become so constant that she’d mistaken it for ambient sounds. She opened the door, made her way to the top of the stairs, and looked down. 

Sure enough, Jaime had managed to put up quite a few decorations. The tree was up, though only half-covered in ornaments and garland, and there was not a soul in sight. When she reached the bottom, she could tell that the bell sounds were coming from the kitchen, but there was another sound drifting in from the living room, like music playing and then stopping, and then starting again. She peeked around the corner into the room and huffed out a laugh. 

There on the sofa with his legs up and three cherubic little blondes clutching him on all sides was her husband. All four were fast asleep while the DVD menu for March of the Wooden Soldiers played over and over. She shook her head, dug the remote out from behind Jaime’s foot, and hit the Power button. As soon as the music stopped, she realized the bells were still going in the next room. 

_ Oh gods _ , she thought, she knew precisely what must have happened. Sure enough, when she pushed open the kitchen door, there was their border collie, neck-deep in the bag of kibble she’d torn open when Jaime had fallen asleep without putting the gate up, and she was wiggling her butt, setting off every little jingle bell on that reindeer harness Jaime’d insisted on buying last week.  _ He put bells on the fucking dog.  _

The dog spotted her and jumped, and then tore out of the kitchen sounding like Santa’s sleigh rolling up at the last house before sunrise. 


End file.
